Hallie's Comet

by Denise Dietz

  “Am I dead?” Hallie asked.

  “No.”

  Gabe loomed above her. He stood, his legs pressed against a bed.

  A strange bed. Her bed?

  It had to be her bed because she lay on its mattress and her head rested on a pillow. Two pillows. Maybe three.

  “You’re alive,” Gabe said. “And awake. Thank God.”

  His voice vibrated within the recesses of Hallie’s mind, blunting the sharp edge of her terror. And yet, an inexplicable fear clamped her heart, as if her heart had been caught in the jaws of a vise.

  She said, “Was I sleeping?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it sleep,” Gabe replied. “You passed out. Then you tranced.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “When you trance, your eyes are open.”

  “I don’t remember. Yes I do. The wall clunked my head. Where am I?”

  “The Imperial Hotel. You’ve occupied one of their bedrooms for the last forty five—” Gabe looked down at his watch. “The last forty-seven minutes. A doctor checked your head, your pulse, even your beautiful ears. You gasped and mumbled something that sounded like ‘bread, cheese and wine.’ The doctor said aspirin might be more prudent. He pronounced you healthy, wealthy, wise, and stressed.”

  “I wasn’t stressed, Gabe. I was scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “Me, too. Scared, I mean. After the doctor left, I held your hand and let you trance. I wanted it over, finished, the riddle solved, although I must confess my hand shook. I kept remembering your words when we had our picnic.”

  “The picnic. It rained.”

  “It didn’t rain.”

  “It didn’t?” From her prone position, she gazed up at his face. Then his words finally got through to her. “Holy Moses, I’ve been trancing! Couldn’t the doctor see that?”

  “Not really. You sounded goofy but normal.”

  “Define normal.”

  “You called me Gabriel, which made sense to the doctor. And you kept insisting that you wanted to go home, which made sense to both of us. And you said…”

  “What? What did I say?”

  “You said you hoped the man who hit you would puke his liquor.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yup. I kind of helped him along. After he hit you, I hit him. It was very Charles Bronson, or maybe Clint Eastwood. One punch and he keeled over like a felled tree.”

  “I feel dizzy, Gabe.”

  “Of course you do. That drunk bastard’s fist caught your stomach. And you sustained a nasty bump on your head.”

  “Not my stomach. My chin.”

  “It was your stomach, Hallie.”

  “Oh, God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Gabe helped her sit up. Then he reached for a flower-decorated bowl. “The doctor warned me,” he said, his voice tender, “so I’m all prepared. Unfortunately, the bathroom’s down the hall. Everything’s the same as it was a hundred years ago, except the mattress. I think the hotel has replaced the mattress. This bowl even has a matching pitcher.”

  “It’s a lovely bowl.” She felt her queasy stomach settle, but she couldn’t control her tears.

  Gabe deposited the bowl on a nearby end table, knelt by the side of the bed, and gathered her into his arms.

  “Okay, okay,” he crooned. “You’re here with me. This isn’t a dream.” He kneaded the small of her back. “I’m such an idiot, Hallie. You can fly to New York and mull things over. That’s reasonable. I have no doubts, none at all, but we’ve only known each other seven days, even if it feels like a hundred years.” He kissed her tousled curls. “You can walk down Myers Avenue till the cows come home.”

  “We died,” she said, her voice catching on a sob. “There was a runaway horse and wagon. And a comet. But the comet was a sign, a stupid handwritten sign. Please, Gabe, I want to trance again. Or sleep. Maybe I can change the ending.”

  “No! The doctor warned me about that, too. He said you might be disoriented for a while, talk gibberish. He said not to let you sleep. He suggested a hospital visit, but your head didn’t need any stitches so I said—”

  “Please let me sleep.”

  “Not even close,” Gabe teased. “I said I’d watch over you very carefully. Now, dry your tears and stand up. We’re going to walk around the room until your head clears completely. You don’t like coffee so I ordered some Pepsi from the hotel manager. A six-pack, the kind with caffeine.”

  “You expect me to drink a six-pack of carbonated caffeine?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll belch till the cows come home.”

  “Good. You sound better. Much better.”

  “If I sound better, why do I have to walk around the room?”

  “Stand up, Hallie. I’m not kidding.”

  Tentatively, she toed the carpet then stood. Almost immediately, her rebellious body sagged against Gabe.

  He circled her waist. “Take it easy, one step at a time.”

  “Damn sky legs!”

  “You didn’t fly,” he said.

  “Yes, I did. I took a flight through time and space.”

  While they paced up and down the small bedroom, Hallie related the whole tale. Sometimes despair clawed at her composure and the sounds that wended their way up her throat emerged as whimpers or whispers. When they did, Gabe cradled her head against his shoulder and slowed the pace. She tried not to cry again, but couldn’t prevent an occasional sob or shudder.

  “Knickers dreamed about crows,” she concluded, “and I think I dreamed about them, too. Last night.”

  “You were attacked by a wall, Hallie, not some panic-stricken mob.”

  “Knickers escaped the mob. It was the horse and buckboard…” She hesitated then said, “I’m glad.”

  “You’re glad she died? Here, have some more Pepsi. Let’s walk faster.”

  “I’m not talking gibberish. I’m glad she died happy. And I think I’ve discovered the answer to my quest, the lesson I was supposed to learn.”

  “Which is?”

  “Later. I’m beginning to feel claustrophobic. This room is so tiny.” Seated on the edge of the bed, she tugged on her boots. “Let’s walk outside. Please?”

  “Sure. I want to retrieve my Nikon from the car. It’s my most prized possession, except for you.”

  “I’m not a possession.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Say what you mean, Gabe.”

  “You’re my most prized treasure. I love you, Hallie.”

  “I love you, too.” Her face scrunched. “Why retrieve your camera? Aren’t we driving back to Colorado Springs?”

  “I’ve taken this room for the night, if you want to stay. I’m asking, not telling.”

  “Relax, Gabe. That’s a great idea.”

  After retrieving his camera and two heavy sweatshirts, they strolled down Myers Avenue. The stars shone and the wind hummed a lullaby.

  Hallie’s gaze lingered on the paved streets. There were a few ruts, but they were caused by tires, not heavy boots or wagon wheels, and the Old Homestead looked much smaller, as if it had shrunk over the years, like an old lady.

  “It’s hard to believe that this was once the scene of such utter madness,” she said. “The sky looked like a sunset, filled with smoky flames from dozens and dozens of torches. People stampeded like cattle. I’m fairly certain I won’t ever paint cows again.” She shivered.

  “What was the answer to your quest, honey?”

  She gave him a lop-sided grin. “Men! Always so impatient.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Okay.” She leaned against the Old Homestead’s wall. “Love isn’t delivered to your door, Gabe. It’s not a letter. It’s not a neatly-wrapped package. Sometimes you have to search a long time…” Her dimple flickered. “Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of basted frogs before you find your prince.” She nibbled at her lower lip. “When you find happiness, you must grab it, cherish it, n
ever let it go.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Knickers didn’t have a TV or magazine ads or movies,” Hallie continued, “so she didn’t have any preconceived notions about the perfect man. She simply followed her heart. Before she died she said, ‘I’d rather spend one week, one month, one year with you, Gabriel, than a lifetime without you.’ That’s a hell of a lesson to learn.”

  “I’ve learned it, too, Hallie. For the last week I’ve followed my heart, but it stopped beating when I lost you.”

  “You didn’t lose me.”

  “When you said we should wait, I thought I’d lost you. Then, when the wall hit your head, I wanted to go back in time. Not a hundred years. Back to this morning. You were right, Hallie. I should have shared my good news, asked how you felt, discussed your fears rationally. At the very least, I should have asked you to marry me.”

  She felt a warm glow spread throughout her body. Up until this very moment, she hadn’t realized how much she wanted to hear those two words: marry me.

  “I’ll marry you,” she said. “I don’t care if we live in Washington D.C. or Transylvania, next door to your fellow vampires. I don’t care if you sit in our living room or span the globe. Let’s travel together whenever possible, have lots of babies, and live happily ever after. Starring Gabriel Q and Alice W. O’Brien.”

  “Alice W. O’Brien Quinn.”

  There was so much joy in his voice, she wanted to capture his words and shove them into her pocket and save them for a rainy day.

  But her dress and sweatshirt didn’t have pockets, she thought pragmatically.

  “Okay, Alice W,” Gabe said, his expression very serious. “The time has come to confess.”

  “Confess what?”

  “Your middle name.”

  “Look at the stars, Gabe. There must be a million—”

  “Your middle name, Hallie.”

  She heaved a deep sigh. “My mom had this thing for Lewis Carroll, and she loved the name Alice. Since my dad couldn’t think of a singer, a woman singer—”

  “Wonderland. Your middle name is Wonderland.”

  “No. White Rabbit.”

  “Alice White Rabbit O’Brien?”

  “When The Jefferson Airplane recorded ‘White Rabbit,’ parents were naming their kids River and Rainbow and Starshine and—”

  “That’s great, Hallie. White Rabbit. It’s so cute, so cuddly, so you.”

  “It wasn’t me before we met.” She auditioned a smile. “I wasn’t cuddly.”

  “My pragmatic bunny,” Gabe said, his voice tender.

  “There’s a six-pack inside our room, or maybe half a six-pack. Maybe we should return to the hotel and get drunk on Pepsi.”

  “I don’t need ‘carbonated caffeine.’ You intoxicate me, Alice White Rabbit O’Brien Quinn.” Squinting through the lens of his camera, he shot a picture.

  “Wait,” Hallie said. “I didn’t have time to pose.”

  “I didn’t have time to focus. But I’m sure the picture will come out fine.”

  “Just like us.”

  “The hotel,” he urged, grabbing her hand.

  Once they were safely inside the tiny room, she could hardly unzip his slacks fast enough. “Now!” she cried, wild to have him.

  “Hold your horses, my love. Treasures must be savored.”

  She saw that his eyes were lazy-lidded with desire. She fell back, onto the mattress. Laughing, he took off his clothes, then her boots, dress, pantyhose and undies. Straddling her hips, his hands cupped her breasts, his fingers massaging her nipples through her bra. With a gasp, she reached up and thrust her first finger between his lips. Sucking her finger, he unsnapped her bra. Then he released her finger and slowly drew the bra straps down her arms. It brought to mind their first night of love, only this time she didn’t shy away. Instead, she encouraged his entry by digging her heels into the mattress, boosting herself.

  “Women,” he managed, his voice raspy. “Always so impatient.”

  “I’m not impatient and I can prove it.” Lowering her butt, her hand caressed between his legs.

  Gabe caught his breath, but he let her play. His legs trembled and sweat beaded his brow. He heard her say, “If the President sends you someplace I can’t go, you’ll have to pack some boudoir photos.”

  “That’s easy,” he managed to reply. “I have albums galore.”

  “Boudoir photos of me, you featherbrained mooncalf.”

  “Deal.” He adjusted her position so that she lay on her belly. He let his hands slowly travel down the smooth curve of her back until he molded her buttocks. It was a form of tender revenge for her previous action, massaging his erection, but he soon realized that any retaliation exacted his own pound of flesh. Okay, so it wasn’t a pound. But it felt like a pound, powerfully engorged, a salute that rivaled any salute he had ever experienced.

  Delighted by her involuntary moan, he heard his own moan. He turned her over and wedged himself between her thighs. Three hard strokes brought him to an intense climax, yet he was blissfully aware that her second climax followed his.

  Hallie twined her legs about Gabe’s waist, holding him prisoner, capturing him inside, hoping his hot need would build anew. It did, and she was vainly triumphant when he cried out for the second time.

  Her gaze touched upon the window.

  “Gabe, it’s raining,” she said. “We’ve lost the stars.”

  “No, my love. We’ve found the stars.”

  THIRTY

  The next morning the rain turned to snow, but only after Gabe had driven back to Colorado Springs.

  Barefoot, clothed in her comfy jeans and striped turtleneck, Hallie took a deep breath, clutched the receiver tightly, and placed her long-distance call.

  While she waited for her mom or dad to answer, she glanced around the family room. Gabe had enlarged last night’s photo and it now occupied the place of honor above the fireplace mantel.

  She looked so damn (Knickers would say “damnfool”) childish. Gabe’s orange and blue Denver Broncos sweatshirt fell below her knees, hiding any assets she might possess. And yet, her face looked happy. No. Ecstatic. Maybe she’d grow her hair long, like Knickers.

  “Hi, Mom,” Hallie said, upon hearing her mother’s cheerful hello.

  “Well, it’s about time,” Josie said. “Your daughter finally calls, Shamus, the very same day she’s flying home. Your father’s standing next to me, Hallie.”

  “I’m not flying home, Mom. I’ve canceled my flight.”

  “Your daughter canceled her flight, Shamus. We figured you might, darling. We’ve been watching the Weather Channel. All that snow. What, Shamus? Your father wants to know if you solved your mystery, Hallie. So do I.”

  “Yes.” She narrated the Knickers-Gabriel story. Gabe placed a mug of herbal tea in her hand so that she could pause, sip, continue. When she finished, there was silence at the other end of the line.

  “Mom, are you still there? Gabe, I think I’ve been disconnected.”

  “We haven’t been disconnected,” Josie said. “In fact, you’re connected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember Granny Bea?”

  “Of course.”

  “She was Mary’s sister.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true, darling. Her adoptive parents kept it a secret.”

  Hallie would have dropped her mug, had Gabe not snatched it from her hand. Clutching the receiver tightly with both hands, she said, “Why would they keep it a secret?”

  “Remember the times, darling. It was the turn of the century. Today one practically brags about illegitimate offspring, but back then folks tucked it away inside the proverbial closet. It was a family skeleton, a big one. Granny Bea’s mother eventually let the cat out of the bag. It was inevitable. Bea had been very naughty and her mother scolded her with something like, ‘After all, you’re the daughter of a wicked woman.’ Or maybe she said woman of ill repute. Or maybe she called Bea a w
hore’s daughter. In any case, the chastisement backfired. Bea was delighted. Throughout the years, she probed her adoptive mother for more details.” Josie sighed. “Bea was always such a free spirit.”

  “How did you find out, Mom?”

  “Granny Bea told me. She considered me a free spirit too, and recognized my love for history. What’s that, Shamus? Of course I love you better than history. Sometimes men are so insecure, Hallie, like little boys. Where was I?”

  “Granny Bea confessed.”

  “Right. But she swore me to secrecy. Anyway, I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. You’ve always been so straight-laced. No, Shamus, straight-laced, not straight-faced. Apparently, our daughter has developed a sense of humor. In fact, she’s laughing as we speak.”

  “Sorry, Mom. Granny Bea was Mary Knickers’ baby sister. That’s unbelievable. Hey, wait a sec. When I called you from Marianne’s, you said you had never heard of The Homestretch. Why did you fib?”

  “I didn’t fib. Bea’s parents knew about Mary Knickers, but they didn’t know the name of the parlor house. The adoption was very complicated and very illegal. Knickers handed Bea over to a wealthy miner and his wife. After a few days the miner’s wife decided she didn’t want a baby, after all. She gave Bea to a lady who was heading east. That greedy lady had once lived next door to Bea’s parents. She knew they couldn’t have children and desperately wanted them, so she sold Bea—”

  “Sold Granny Bea?”

  “I told you it was illegal. The greedy lady collected five hundred dollars before she took off for parts unknown. By the time Bea learned about her background, Mary Knickers was dead.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t learn about Granny Bea from you, Mom.”

  “Why, darling?”

  “Because my paintings started a quest, which led me to Colorado, which led to my honorable solution.”

  “Honorable solution?”

  “I never considered my paintings honorable, but they are. I paint from the heart, even my dumb cows. I express how I feel, deep down inside.” Her gaze touched upon Gabe. “Love is honorable too, and honest, if you love the right person. I think Mary Knickers was reaching out from the past, reaching out across time and space.”